Different
by clair beaubien
Summary: Bobby contemplates taking care of Sam after Dean is gone. It's not gonna be easy and he knows it. Bobby's POV. Hurt Sam, Big Brother Dean. A TWEAKED Chapter 2 is now up. -thanks to Phx for helping me with the edit-
1. Chapter 1

_Losing a brother, losing somebody you've literally spent nearly every single day of your whole life with, you don't lose just your future, you lose your past. You lose the person who knows all your punch lines, exactly remembers that place where you did that thing that time that nobody else will ever know about, the person who knows the difference between what you say and what you're saying. Losing a brother is losing half of yourself. _

SPN  SPN  SPN  SPN 

Sam's different. Not the psychic crap, I'm not talking about that. That's just something - something we'll deal with when it comes to it. Dean and me, we ain't talked about it since that one time. Sam and me sure ain't talked about it. Sam and me ain't _never_ gonna talk about it more'n likely. Not while Dean is still with us, not least of all because Dean wouldn't stand for it.

No, when I say Sam's different, I mean he's different from Dean, he always has been, even when they were kids and Sam was trying to damn near be a carbon copy of him. Dean is bluster and smart-ass and talking a convincing diversion. Sam is thinking and considering and trying to not hurt anybody's feelings.

Dean's a talker; Sam ain't. At least not with anybody who ain't Dean he ain't a talker. Oh he'll talk up research and information and anything that has anything to do with a job, that stuff he'll talk to anybody until he's wrung every last bit of info out of 'em. But ask him anything about himself, how is he, does he need anything - anything _not_ related to a job - and it's like a Yugo mechanic asking if he can take care of a Porsche. Thanks but no thanks.

Don't get me wrong, scratch away a lot of my crustiness and you're gonna find out I care about those boys, both of 'em, and I ain't sorry to say it, but only one person gets to take care of Sam and that's Dean and that goes for _any_ wound, not just the physical ones.

So I was standing next to a wounded Sam, at the trunk of a tree, in the woods, and it was getting dark. Sam was sitting, cradling his right arm. We'd been hunting a lusus naturae, a nasty one. It threw Sam into a tree, this tree, maybe breaking his arm, and Dean went off after it because the thing that hurts his brother don't get to live another hour.

"Dean - you let me go out there with you. You don't want t'be hunting that thing in the dark all by your lonesome."

"I got plenty a'daylight. You stay with Sam, in case it circles back. Remember - dead shot to the torso. Head shot does nothing."

"I know how to kill the damn thing - and _it _knows how to kill _you._"

"Dean - don't go out there alone." Sam tried telling him. "I've got my gun, I'll keep this tree behind me. Take Bobby with you."

"It took your gun arm out."

"I can shoot left-handed."

"Forget it Sam, you're not staying here by yourself and that's that. Bobby -."

"I'm on it Dean. You watch yourself."

"_Dean_ -." Sam tried it one more time before Dean took off through the trees. Made no difference, Dean was off and gone.

And me and Sam were left alone. Together.

"Y'ever hunt one of these before?" I asked.

"Yeah, Dad anyway, back in ninety-five. That was a young one though, 'least that's what Dad said, he took it out pretty easy. This one seems to have some more experience."

"It's not being taken by surprise, that's for sure." I noticed Sam wincing and shifting how he was holding his arm.

"Want me t'have a look at that arm?"

"No, thanks. It'll keep."

_Until Dean can have a look._

"I got a new load a'books in." I said. I figured that would get Sam's attention. "Next time you boys stop by, you'll have to have a go at 'em."

"Yeah?"

"Must near two hundred of 'em."

Yep, that got his attention.

"Really? That many?"

"Yeah. I think I'm gonna have to figure out a better way to organize 'em all."

We were down to a little over three months until Dean's deal came due, and I felt like I was getting the house ready to move in an orphaned nephew. At least I was planning that Sam was gonna move in with me when Dean was gone. Made sense I thought, the boy was gonna be on his own, he needed a home base. Truth was - I figured he was gonna need somebody else in his life. I'd never be his brother or his father, but I was his friend and we were both gonna need each other.

'Course this was something else I hadn't discussed with Sam. And all the discussion with Dean came down to him asking me - or maybe _telling _me - 'You'll watch out for him? You gotta watch out for him.' and I agreed because I knew in the Winchester way, Dean would have at least _some _peace in hell if he knew his little brother was being taken care of.

And _I'd_ feel better knowing Sam had himself a home, a _good_ home. I'll never make 'Better Homes and Gardens', I'll sure never make anybody's list for any kinda positive role model, but I could give that boy a fixed roof over his head, a safe place to sleep, and as much home cooked food as he could eat.

I could give him just somebody to be there at the edges.

Now I'm as crusty as they come and that's a persona I don't even gotta work hard at. But I've spent nearly half my life knowing those boys and - well - they got under my skin. They're each of 'em tough as nails and each of 'em in their own way as vulnerable as any kid lost and looking for a way home.

When Sam died, I thought I could get Dean to move in with me. Well, I _hoped_ it. But the bond between those boys is so strong it's practically alive all by itself - you cut that bond, you kill one brother, and the other brother starts to bleed to death. When Dean wouldn't come back with me, when he threw me out of Cold Oak, I really thought he was planning on finding a way to off himself, and I expected to have to go back and bury _two_ bodies.

I hoped I wouldn't have to worry about the same thing with Sam.

"Be kinda hard to group 'em by subject." Sam said. He'd been thinking into the silence about my books. "Some of 'em, yeah. I mean the ones that are only about one thing, sure. Hey Bobby, don't you have a database in your computer for all your books?"

"What do I look like? A computer nerd?" I asked. Sam just stared at me a minute.

"So how have you got the database set up?" He asked me anyway.

"Oh - I cross-reference by author, title, year, weapon, and creature." I admitted.

Sam smiled which is something I don't see very often. I'm not sure anyone does.

"So it might just be a matter of organizing them alphabetically by author or title."

"Yeah, now all I need is to get myself enough bookshelves."

We went back to the silence then.

I didn't like how fast the sun seemed to be setting and how slow Dean was coming back to us. As worried as I mighta been though, Sam was feeling it a hundred times more. He stared out into the forest that seemed to be getting darker each second, leaning forward toward Dean and the danger he was walking himself straight into.

"We should go out there." Sam said.

"Few more minutes and I'll be agreeing with you."

Just before those few minutes were up, we heard a shot then a whoop, then Dean came striding in like he was king of the walk.

"_I came, I saw, I kicked its ass!"_

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. "There's blood on your jacket."

"Not mine. C'mon, let's get you back to the car and get a look at that arm."

"What'd you do with the body?" I asked him.

"Convenient sinkhole. Deep one too. People in China might find it, but nobody around here will. C'mon. Let's get out of here."

Dean hooked an arm under Sam's to help him to his feet, though I wouldn't a'bet the house that Sam _needed_ it. Sam didn't put up a fuss, he was a fountain of questions as he got to his feet and we headed for the car.

"You sure it's dead? Shouldn't we burn it? Are you sure you didn't get hurt? Did you see any evidence of another one?"

"Dude - breathe. I got it covered, okay? How's the arm?"

"Hurts."

"Worse?"

"No. The same. I can move it a little better."

"Good, maybe it's not broken."

We walked another maybe ten minutes to the car. Dean opened the back passenger door and gave Sam a push toward it.

"Have a seat, I'll get the first aide."

As Sam took his seat in the back of the car, I wondered what it was gonna be like taking care of him after Dean was gone. Was he gonna do what I said when I said it? Or was he gonna brush me off and think he had to take care of everything himself? I've known that boy since before he could tie his own shoes and I'd never have the familiar touch for him that Dean had by instinct.

"Okay, here, let me see." Dean crouched in front of Sam who sat sideways in the car with his feet out on the ground. Dean ran his hand up and down Sam's arm, watching his face for a reaction.

"How's this feel?"

"Hurts. Not broken."

"Yeah, I'll be the judge of that. How's _this_ feel?"

"_Ow_ - _Dean_." Sam flinched but didn't pull away I noticed. He let Dean keep checking him out as he moved on from Sam's arm to the rest of him and when I guess nothing else was broken or out of place, he put a sling around Sam's arm.

"All right Sammy, slide in, lay down, get comfy. We'll get back to the motel."

"I'm not gonna lay down."

"Oh, I think you are."

"Dean -."

"_Sam._"

Sam slid in but he didn't make a move to lay down. After a mini stare-off, Dean shut the door.

"I'm marking this down Sammy. This is going _in the book_."

"Yeah, right."

I got in shotgun and we got underway back to the motel, with a run for supper through a drive-thru right near the motel. We had rooms next to each other and Dean pulled in next to my truck.

"Come in to eat?" Dean asked as we got out of the car.

I shook my head. Those boys had little enough time left together, I wasn't gonna take more of it than I needed to.

"Nah, thanks. I just want to put my feet up and watch a little pay per view."

"Okay. Wake you up for breakfast?" He asked as he handed me my bag of supper.

"Right - I'll be up before both you youngsters."

Dean laughed but it didn't last long as he helped Sam out of the car. By now Sam's injuries were dragging him down and he looked like he really needed the shoulder that Dean propped him up on.

"Need help?" I asked.

Dean shook his head. Sam straightened up and stood himself away from Dean and walked to the door like I'd insulted him. For Dean, Sam'll buckle under to a sliver. For anybody else, he'll just pick his head up from wherever it might be rolling away from him, stick it back on, and keep going.

Thinking I might have care of him after Dean left us was looking to be a ticklish undertaking.

We went our separate ways, each to our own room and supper and bed. I was awake for a while, making notes, just settling in. After a couple hours or so, I saw a familiar tall shadow walk past my window and a couple minutes later walk past again.

Sam musta been out for a soft drink run.

I could see his reflection through my window in my dark TV screen and he didn't go back into their room. Seemed like he took a seat on the hood of the car.

For some reason, as I watched him on the sly, I thought about the first time I saw Sam after he came back to hunting from school, from college. John was in trouble, the boys were desperate, and they came to me for help. Now, I been a hunter since before those boys were born and considering I'm still alive and in one piece, I guess it ain't bragging to say I'm a damn good one. But that day, that demon Meg broke in my door and flung Dean across my living room, and before he even hit the wall, Sam had himself in front of me like I was some green civilian that he was gonna protect or die trying.

I ain't had much experience with it, but take Dean out of the picture, even a little, and Sam in charge is an iron wall of will and action. That might get him through losing Dean.

Or it might make him so brittle he'd fall apart at the first touch.

I kept expecting Dean to come out, show up reflected in my dark TV screen, seeing to Sam. But he didn't show up and Sam didn't move.

If I was gonna have care of that boy in a few months, maybe I should start getting my practice in. I took myself out of my room and over to him.

"Bobby - everything okay?"

"I was about to ask you the exact same thing."

"I just - came out for some air."

Right, and I was playing polo in the morning. Nighttime in Georgia in January is still nighttime in January and the air was more what I'd call brisk than refreshing.

"Y'arm bothering you?" He still had it in the sling, which he wouldn't if it _wasn't _bothering him. I knew that much about him.

"Naah. Just don't want to hear Dean complaining if he catches me without it."

Speaking of which... A quick glance to the window showed that the light was off inside their room. Dean must be asleep. That would make this next part either easier or harder.

"How're you doin'Sam?"

He perked up, he straightened up, he lied right to my face.

"I'm fine."

"And I'm a gray-haired granny."

"You _do _have gray hair."

Tell me those boys ain't brothers. Same damn sense of the absurd.

"What're you _really _doing out here in the cold?"

"Just sitting." He shrugged his good shoulder. "Just thinking."

"Thinking about what?" Sure I was probably pushing it, and Sam gave me a look like I was asking details of his last conjugal experience, but I felt like I had to try.

"_Just thinking_." Sam said it with a loud and clear warning that I should back off. Now Sam can be scary without trying and downright terrifying when he puts a little thought into it, but he don't scare me and so I didn't back off.

"Anything I can help with?"

Yep, I got the 'Yugo mechanic wanting to work on a Porsche' look.

"No. _Thanks_." That at least sounded sincere.

"Y'know Sam -."

_What?_ I thought. _'Come next May we're gonna be all we have so it'd be nice if we knew how to actually talk to each other.'_? That'd go over _real_ well.

But Sam was looking at me like he was thinking I might just say that exact thing, and ready to rip me a lot of new things if I did.

"Can anybody join this party?" Suddenly Dean was there and I was spared trying to think how to finish my sentence. And the look on Sam's face changed from angry and challenging to open and vulnerable so fast it was a thing to see.

He was already bleeding out; losing Dean was gonna rip him to ribbons.

"I was just about to say that it's kinda damn cold to be outside." I said.

"I'll say it's cold." Dean agreed with me. He took his spot right next to Sam, facing me. "I thought there was some law against cold past the Mason-Dixon line?"

"I think that's more of a guideline." I said and got a smile out of Sam for my effort.

"So what _are_ we doing out here?" Dean asked.

"I was just going to get a soda." Sam said. "I just - I didn't have enough money with me."

"_Here."_ Me and Dean both said at the same time, both reaching for our wallets. I actually had mine with me though and Dean came up empty. I didn't know how much money Sam didn't have with him so I took out two dollars.

Sam looked at me a minute like I might be handing him acid and he didn't make a move to take it until Dean - _casually_ mind you - turned more toward me, bumping Sam's good arm with his elbow.

"Thanks." Sam accepted my money then. "I'll just - I'll - thanks." He went off in search of his soda pop and I watched Dean watch him walk away.

"He's not sleeping." Dean said when the coast was clear.

"It's still early, really. Just 'cause us old folks turn in right after supper -."

"It's been going on for months. It's like if he lets his brain shut down even for a minute, he's failing me. I can't get him to understand that if kills himself - well, it's not like I can get a second mortgage on my soul, now is it?"

"And if he _doesn't_ kill himself trying to save you, he'll think he didn't do enough." That's the Winchester way, anything less than 200% is _slacking_.

Dean nodded, still watching after Sam who had disappeared into the alcove a hundred feet away. I woulda asked him if he understood _yet_ what his deal was doing, would do, to his brother, but what would the point be now?

"You gotta get him to go back to school." Dean said, all at once like it was a life or death order. "His scholarship should still be good. Or you can convince them to open it up again. Don't let him - don't let him _not_ go back to school."

"Dean - I couldn't get that boy to take a bandage from me if he didn't want it and he was hemorrhaging. What makes you think I can influence how he runs his life?"

"_Because you have to._" Dean turned to me, desperate and demanding. Was he really that naive?

"Dean, you're the only one I've ever seen get Sam to do what he didn't want to just by telling him. Even your Daddy near had to take his head off, and that was asking _reasonable_ things."

"_You said you'd take care of him_."

"_And I'll do my damnedest_. But right now I think I'll call myself a success if I keep him breathing longer than three days."

Dean took an awful deep breath, getting ready to read me a riot act the likes of which might cow a Green Beret. But he stopped before he got one single syllable out and I turned to look behind me.

Sam had gotten his Coke and was headed back to us.

"You were saying?" I asked.

He gave me look that shoulda burned clear through. I mighta smiled if I wasn't tired and this wasn't such a terrible subject to be discussing anytime of the day or night.

"Sam, you should go to bed." Dean said when his brother was close enough. "That arm isn't going to heal by itself."

"I've got more research."

Dean gave me a 'see?' look.

"_Sammy_. Go to bed."

He said it like Sam was four, not twenty-four. And Sam took a sip of his soda pop, he looked at me, he looked at Dean, he _answered _like he was four instead of twenty-four.

"You're coming in?"

"Yep." Dean answered, not sparing me a look until Sam had turned back to the motel. And that look told me our conversation was definitely not over. He turned to follow Sam and nearly got knocked over when Sam turned back, holding his soda can in his bad hand, handing something to me with his good hand.

"Your change..."

All the things that boy had to be worrying about right now, and right now he was worried about giving me fifty cents. It seemed too important to him for me to refuse the two quarters.

"Thanks Sam."

He smiled a quick smile then Dean was putting his hand on his good arm, urging him to their room with a light touch but a clear meaning.

"See you in the morning Bobby." Sam said and Dean echoed it and then I was standing by myself on the cold sidewalk of a Georgia motel.

Story of my life.

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Sleeping that night wasn't the easiest thing I've ever tried to do and when I opened my eyes again, two wiseacres I know too well and not near enough were already awake and at the trunk of their car, packing things in. I was the last one up.

I might never live this down.

"Early enough for you?" Dean asked way too cheerfully when I carried my gear out to my truck a few minutes later, and Sam snickered. What'd I say? Wiseacres.

I just grumbled a wish that they'd run out of washer fluid on a muddy spring day and stowed my bags.

"We gonna trade insults or we gonna get breakfast?" I asked.

"We can bring it back for you if you need a little more shut eye." Dean offered, still too cheerful for so early in the morning.

The glare I sent him only made him grin.

We checked out of the motel and found a diner a couple blocks away. They only had booths and Sam still had his sling on and Dean orchestrated the seating so Sam's bad arm was to the wall, and Dean was on the outside of him. I sat across from them.

"Hey - sausage gravy. I haven't had that in years." Dean said as he looked over the menu. He sounded like it was as good as winning the lottery.

"What's got you in such a good mood?"

"I don't know. It's a nice day, the coffee's fresh, the waitresses are pretty." He winked at one of those waitresses walking past. "What's not to be happy about?"

Sam was smiling, but the eyes he had fixed to the menu had dark smudges under them.

"What about you Sam? How're you doing this morning?" I asked.

"I'm just wondering what to get for breakfast that I can eat one handed."

"I'll cut your food for you Sammy." Dean offered. "I'll even feed you if you need me to."

Sam started to answer back, he took a breath, lifted his finger to make a point, thought better of it, shook his head and went back to his menu.

Dean smirked and shot me a grin. Razzing Sam has always been his favorite past-time. Or second favorite anyway since shortly after puberty. He's the only one who _can_ razz Sam that I know of. The only reaction anybody else who tries it ever gets is puzzled seriousness or the glare of death.

I could see me offering to feed Sam. Well no - I couldn't. He'd have to be actually dying for me to risk offering and even then I doubt he'd accept. Even at his sickest, even at my house, even with John right there, it was Dean and Dean alone who ever had that kind of care of Sam.

"What can I get you fellas today?" Our waitress wasn't a sweet young thing but she was worth paying attention to. Dean ordered his breakfast like he was on top of the world. Sam and me ordered a little _less _enthusiastically. When the waitress walked away, Sam turned to Dean.

"Move out. I have to use the restroom."

Dean slid out to let Sam get past him.

"Call if you need help." He said and Sam grumbled something that sounded ancient and lethal as he walked away. Dean took his seat again opposite me.

"Sam get any more sleep last night?" I asked him.

"Some. He's never been a heavy sleeper. You'll have to remember that."

"Dean, I been thinking."

"What?" He lost his 'top of the world' demeanor. He knew I had something serious on my mind.

"Have you talked to Sam about any of this? About what you expect him to do after you're gone?"

"Any time I try, he just says again that he's gonna save me. He doesn't want to hear anything else."

Yeah, that sounded like Sam.

"Then how in the hell am I supposed to convince him of anything if you can't?"

"_Because you have to._ Dammit Bobby - Sam'll follow your lead. He just needs somebody to be there. You know how he is."

"Yeah, I know _exactly_ how he is. I know when you're gone Sam's gonna be a lost soul who thinks he's got nowhere to turn and _I _can't _make _him turn to me. You want this to happen, you gotta talk to him."

The waitress brought our coffees and we smiled politely and tried to sound like we weren't discussing one brother going to hell literally and another one going figuratively until she walked away again.

"I'm working on it Bobby. I am." Dean said.

"I hate to have to say this boy but -_ work faster._"

"Work faster on what?" Sam asked, suddenly back at the table and neither Dean or me realized before it was too late.

"Uhh - uhh -." Dean looked at me for an answer and I didn't have one and I don't know that it wasn't because I wanted this finally out in the air.

"Guys?"

Dean slid out and stood, wanting Sam to slide back in. But Sam didn't slide back in. He was getting an idea we were discussing him and it wasn't putting any joy in him.

"What were you talking about Dean? Work faster on what?"

"Sam -."

"_What_?"

I decided to put my two cents in. I never had kids but I'd spent enough time with John to remember the necessary tone.

"Sam - _sit._ Or do you want the whole restaurant looking at you two arguing?"

Well he looked at me and if there was any weight behind his psychic crap I was about to be toasted like a marshmallow. So I did the only thing I could do - I looked back at him like he could damn well go ahead and _try_.

He gave. He didn't give in, he just remembered that I was an old man and that he had manners. He slid back in and Dean slid in next to him.

"What were you talking about?" It was a demand, not a question.

No sense in beating around the bush I figured.

"_You_."

"What about me?"

"About - after I'm gone." Dean said. Guess he decided to join the fray.

"Dean - how many times do I have to tell you? You're not-." Sam gave fast look around at what his audience might be. "You're just _not_. I won't let it happen."

"And if it happens _anyway_ Sammy -."

"It _won't._ All right? It just _won't. _I won't let it."

"Well that's great Sam, but we still need a Plan B for you."

That only made Sam angry.

"No. You know what? _No._ You think I'm gonna lose you and turn right around and - what? Go back to school? Get on with my life? _Forget you?_ Is that what you want me to do? _Forget it._"

"Sam -."

"Shut up. Get the hell outta my way. _Let me out._"

Dean got out of his way and Sam marched himself out of the diner. Dean sat down again.

"Which one of us is gonna say how well that went?" I asked.

Good thing _Dean _doesn't have any psychic crap or I _woulda_ been a toasted marshmallow right then. It was probably only the waitress coming with our food that saved me from anything more lethal than the snarl on his face.

"Y'got an idea _yet_ what you're leaving me with Dean? What magic you're expecting me to work? Y'know there's no spell or charm or key yet can hold still the force of nature your brother is like this."

"Just promise me you'll _try_."

"I will Dean. You know I will. But Sam's - different. He always has been. You're his default Dean, it's you or nobody. Losing you is gonna kill him. He may keep walking around, but he's gonna be dead. He's dying already. You know it."

Dean lost the snarl and closed his eyes and for a minute I wasn't sure he wasn't gonna lose a few tears. I wanted to kick myself for being an idiot. _Of course he knows what this is doing to Sam. He's just been keeping up a brave face for his little brother. He's known all along._

"Promise me you'll _keep_ trying." He asked me. He didn't open his eyes until the sentence was gone. "You're gonna be all he has left."

'_And he's gonna be all I have left._'I thought but didn't say.

"Want me to go see if I can't work some magic right here, right now?"

"No, it wouldn't work anyway. He's not ready to listen." Dean slid Sam's plate of pancakes in front of himself and started cutting them up. "He's gonna take the sling off like _that'll_ show me since I'm the one who keeps telling him to wear it. Then he'll fume for awhile and swear at me for a minute or two. Then he might swear at _you_ a time or two." He kept his eyes on Sam's plate and his work. "Then he'll remember that time is running out and he'll come back in and sit down like nothing happened. Nothing much, anyway."

I stared at him until he looked up at me.

"What?"

"You got this all written down somewhere or are you expecting me to _remember_ it?"

He gave me the toasted marshmallow look again.

"_Anyway_," he huffed at me. "You should know how Sam is."

"I _know_ how Sam is." I told Dean. "He's smart and stubborn and proud and funny and obsessed and loyal and brave and family is more important to him than breathing and I _knew _all that about him the second I knew his name was _Winchester._"

Dean tried to glare at me again but I could see the pride in his eyes. Sometimes _Winchester_ just summed up everything.

And that's when I realized.

"Dean - Sam's different from you. He's different from me, from John, he's different from every hunter I ever met. Sam's different 'cause he's still got _hope_. And God help us _all _the day he loses that."

It took a long minute but finally,

"_I know._"

Finished with the pancakes, he pushed the plate back to Sam's spot and looked up. Just by his expression - victory quickly quashed into nonchalance - I knew Sam had come back into the diner.

Sure enough, that tall shadow crossed my shoulder and Sam set himself down across from me, waving Dean to stay in the booth and just slide over. He had his bad arm crossed against himself and his sling crumpled almost into invisibility in his hand. He didn't look up and he didn't say anything.

Dean looked at Sam, he looked at me, he looked back at Sam.

"I cut your pancakes up for you." He said, bright like he'd been acting all morning. He exchanged their plates, then passed the syrup over.

"Thanks_._"

Sam got started eating his pancakes and drinking Dean's coffee and not saying anything. Dean looked at me and rolled his eyes, but then we all three ate our breakfasts and the quiet was unfamiliar, but I figured these boys obviously knew how to work their way outta their own fights so I let the silence alone.

I looked at 'em once in awhile. I've known them most of their lives and I recognized the 'looking everywhere but at _you_' attitudes they were sure employing now. I bet Dean memorized every car out the window and Sam counted every crack in the linoleum, anything but look at each other.

The waitress filled our coffee and left the check and I made sure to finish my breakfast before the boys did, and for as much as they weren't talking, they were eating mighty slow.

Both boys are different. Different from each other. Different from other hunters. Different from most everybody else in the world. They got less than in worldly possessions than any person I ever met, but they got more in each other than any other person could hope for.

Might be I was gonna have the care of Sam in three months time, but I had the care of _both_ of them right now. And they _both_ needed to hear what might be a lie and a truth both at the same time – I had to tell the one that we were gonna save his brother _and_ tell the other that I'd do what he wanted after he was gone.

"I want you both to listen to me." I said. They're hard-headed but they're polite so they looked at me. "You know that if anything ever happened to one of you, the other has a home and a life that we'd piece out outta whatever is left. _And_ you both know that if one of you is in danger, there's no rock in this world or the next that we won't turn over to take care of it. So why don't we all quit worryin' about what ain't here yet and get to work on what's in front of us?"

I really thought I was gonna get a 'yessir' out of 'em they both looked so caught out. But they looked at each other like they were spying and muttered, "Yeah, okay, you're right," and something else I didn't quite catch and I picked up the check to go pay and left them to finish eating and start figuring out that I know them enough to know what I'm talking about.

Sure enough, as I was paying, Dean walked past and thumped my arm. But then kept going so he wouldn't have to actually say out loud that I was right. Sam followed behind slower and I was paid and ready to head out as he walked up to me. We got in step together and when we got to the door he reached out with his good hand to open it for me.

"_Thanks." _He said, giving me that look that's apology as much as gratitude - half sorry, half desperate, and all Sam.

"It's nothing you gotta worry about kid." I told him.

He still had the sling crushed in his hand and when we were through the front door I asked him,

"You need help with that?"

He looked where I was indicating and blew out a breath before smiling.

"Yeah, I do."

And before I could even start to offer the help, Sam took some long strides away from me and shook the sling out of its crumple.

"Hey Dean – you help me with this?"

And I was left standing alone on the sidewalk of a Georgia diner.

Story of my life.

The End.


End file.
